


my world is filled with cheer (and you)

by rbbsbb



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Christmas, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, M/M, No Smut, OT5, Pining, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rbbsbb/pseuds/rbbsbb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. They're all in Secondary school together, and Harry isn't new to pining. The annual Secret Santa gift exchange is on, though, and when he pulls Louis' name, Harry decides that he needs to get his boy the best present that he could ever ask for.</p><p>(Or, Harry is in love with Louis, his best mate, and is his Secret Santa this year.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	my world is filled with cheer (and you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mstyles91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mstyles91/gifts).



> hello! so, this was written in a little over a week, and i originally planned for it to be around 7k words long, and now we're here... i'd really like to thank everyone who listened to my moping and groaning about getting this finished (especially christina), and also my amazing beta, [chiri](http://gemsandotherstones.tumblr.com/), who made sure this sounded somewhat decent. 
> 
> also, this is dedicated to mstyles91 who gave me the amazing prompt to work with. hope you like it!

Snow is falling in clumps, blocking any sort of vision that’s more than two feet in front of him. Harry’s freezing, his limbs trembling in the subzero temperature; his fingers have long since turned blue, and he’s sure that his toes are in a similar state. This is his own fault, though. He’s the one who had to go out during a bloody blizzard. All to get his hands on the newest, fastest-selling Rocker Mouth skateboard.

He’s running through the streets like a madman, going from store to store to try and find it. If he had known about it beforehand, Harry wouldn’t have waited until the last second to hunt it. Thing is, Louis’ only just mentioned the fact that the skateboard is a limited edition, available for the holiday season, and he absolutely, positively _needs_ it.

They’d been on Skype, as per usual on Sunday evenings. Going on about homework and Liam’s new pup and Mr. Cowell’s horrid haircut, they had somehow stumbled onto the topic of the student council Secret Santa gift exchange. Louis had brought it up, going on about he’s going to buy Eleanor some new matte lipstick that Perrie swore would look amazing on her.

“Yeah. Dunno much about makeup, but Pez swore to me that El would love it.”

Harry had nodded, trying to come off as nonchalant. He’d gotten Louis is the draw, and needed to: first, keep it a secret; second, find the perfect present to present to the shining boy with blazing eyes; and third, make it a memorable birthday/Christmas for him.

“Erm, yeah,” he muttered, eyes flicking somewhere away from the laptop camera. “Sounds lovely. Eleanor’s a pretty girl, and I’m sure she’ll look good in whatever you buy her.”

Louis scoffed into the microphone, eyes rolling. “Thanks, Hazza. What a lovely sentiment. Now, who have you got?”

Harry’s eyes came back to the screen, his eyebrows scrunched. “’m sorry?”

“Who have you got?”

Harry cleared his throat. “We aren’t supposed to tell, Louis.”

“A bit late for me, innit?” Louis noted. “Don’t leave me in the cold. ‘m all chilly, Harry. Spill the beans.”

He pressed his mouth into a tight line, shaking his head at the boy on the screen. Louis’ a beauty, really, all charming and bronze and bloody cheeky, but Harry refused to let him win on this one. This, Harry had decided the moment that he pulled his boy’s name from the hat, would be a once in a lifetime chance to show Louis just how much he means to him.

“You’re just a cheater. I, for one, am going to keep this all to myself.”

Louis huffed, seeming to become frustrated in the little lens. He’s always in control, and always has been. Making Harry say and do whatever he wanted had always been a blessing to him. In primary school, Louis could dare Harry to put thumbtacks in Mrs. Flack’s chair. When they’d become neighbors, in the very beginning, Louis immediately convinced Harry to throw toilet paper across the lawns’ of the rude old people who refused to give out candy on Halloween. For Christmas and his birthday and every present-giving holiday, Louis had managed to squeeze out what he was getting from his friend, much too early.

This time, though, Harry couldn’t fall victim to Louis’ allure. He bit his tongue and refused to look directly at the boy on his screen, picking at a loose thread on his jeans.

“Fine then. Be a boring sod.” Louis glanced around his room, eyes roaming, bored. “Guess you’ll have to think up a magnificent gift all on your own.”

“Guess so,” Harry replied, a small smile on his lips.

“Personally,” Louis began, “my Secret Santa had better be speedy. There’s only one thing that I really want, and I know mum isn’t getting it for me–‘cos she doesn’t approve of my ‘rebellious habits’, whatever that means–and it’s going to be bloody hard to get their hands on it.”

Harry’s ears perked up, coming to full attention. He’d been thinking for days about what to get Louis, but couldn’t find anything up to his standards. It had been: concert tickets are too expensive, or that Adidas jacket won’t keep him warm enough, or Jay would never let Louis bring a dog into the house. It was the first time that Harry was even close to an answer.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

Louis smirked as he began typing feverishly into the keyboard, shaking the camera until he found what he was looking for and sent it to Harry. “’s this skateboard, right? Like, Rocker Mouth is the best company, and for Christmas they made a special edition penny board. It’s the coolest thing that I’ve ever seen.”

Harry listened as he droned on about his dream board, clicking the link. When the page pulled up, he was met with one of the ugliest looking spectacles that he’d ever seen. It was all red and black, with flames and prints that made it look like something that a child would buy. Harry couldn’t possibly imagine why Louis would want it, but, then again, he could, because Louis has always had a knack for the different things.

Harry smiled as Louis spoke, and decided that he would do everything in his power to get it for him. “Looks cool, mate.”

Louis agreed. “Yeah. Sucks, though, ‘cos they only made like twenty-thousand, and they were released like a week ago. So. They’re all probably gone, or going to be.”

Harry’s eyes widened, a dropping feeling inside his gut. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not really expecting to get it, I suppose. But, it’d be really lovely if my Secret Santa had the idea before it ran out. My best bet is if Liam got me. Maybe Zayn would know, too. Dunno. We’ll just have to wait and see in two weeks.”

Harry logged offline not long after their conversation, ignoring the clock that gleamed 17:23. When he went into the kitchen to let his mum know where he was going and that it was an urgent matter, because he has to get this gift for Louis before it runs out, Anne had given him a soft, knowing smile, before sending him on his way with a kiss on the forehead and a, “be safe, love.”

Now, he’s been to at least five stores in the past forty-five minutes, and cannot, for the life of him, find the skateboard anywhere. Even the most high-end, fully-stocked skate shops seem to be out, apologizing profusely when he gives them a disappointed frown. He’ll go in, out of breath, and ask the first worker he finds. When they search the back room and come up empty handed, Harry will huff out a sigh, tell them thank you anyways, and pull the drawstrings on his hoodie before stumbling back into the snow.

He searches for an entire hour, finding himself out of the cold and inside the mall. It’s dark out, the sun having given up sometime in the midst of Harry’s rampage, and the winter décor is lit up, cascading light across everything in its reach. Harry watches, casually, sulking in his own disappointment.

He’s known Louis for as long as he can remember. When they were kids, barely at five and seven, Harry moved in next door, all doe eyes and dimpled cheeks. Louis had been a rascal then, running about as though sugar ran through his veins. From the first moment they met, the two had been inseparable, doing everything together.

As they aged, grew from boys to teens to young men, the two of them were molded around one another, lives revolving around what the other felt, thought, or did. For every date that Louis went on, Harry was waiting to listen to the gory details; whenever Louis would score on the footie pitch, Harry was there to cheer him on; during every school production, Harry was in the audience, shouting until his voice gave out and his hands were sore from clapping.

Their relationship had always been platonic, from the start. They were close, always within arm’s reach of one another, but never near enough to properly touch. Being in Louis’ radius was just a part of life, and for a while, Harry could make himself believe that their closeness wasn’t a _thing_. He would tell himself in the late of night, “Plenty of friends are practically in one another’s pockets.”

For years, back when they were just entering their teens, Harry would ignore the feeling in his tummy whenever Louis would giggle at his jokes or prod at his cheeks. He would push his intimate thoughts of the boy to the back of his mind, pretending that everyone wonders what their best mate’s lips taste like. It wasn’t an act, not back then–he’d actually been sure that he was being normal about Louis.

In year eight, when Louis was all big and cocky and leading the year ten’s, Harry realized that nothing about how he felt was normal lad stuff. Most of his friends had girlfriends or boyfriends, wanting to get to know themselves and let another person know them, while Harry sat alone in his thoughts, waiting to want like everyone else did.

It was a slow conclusion, realising that he’d felt more for Louis than he initially thought. A girl called Emily asked him out, ended up dating him for two weeks before it hit Harry that he felt more for Louis than his actual girlfriend. They broke off their relationship not long after, and Harry was alone again, wanting, now.

Loving another boy–loving _Louis_ –hadn’t been a difficult thing to process. It seemed natural, because Louis had always been there, supporting and laughing and making Harry feel more human.

The difficult part, Harry learned, was keeping how he felt a secret. So many times, they would be tucked up against one another, breathing softly as the sun set, close enough that Harry could feel Louis’ heartbeat under his palm; they would be at the lunch table, flicking peas across the table at one another, giggling when it missed and hit Niall, instead. They would be on Louis’ roof, talking about the future and how terrifying university sounds. In those moments, just the two of them and time, Harry would catch himself slipping, his stares lasting longer than necessary or his touches lingering.

Louis never seemed to catch on, though, just winking at Harry in a way that made his cheeks catch fire and his mind go foggy. He never complained about the younger boy’s touches, never tried to pull away or make things awkward. Louis let it happen, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

But, while Louis may have been in the dark as to Harry’s feelings, no one else seemed to be. Liam was the first to catch on, Zayn and Niall not long after. They didn’t act disgusted when their suspicions were confirmed, Harry with a bowed head and strained voice. They hugged him, went on about how nothing’s got to change, and that he’s not out of his mind for loving Louis.

It’s been years since then. Harry’s in year eleven, readying himself for his seventeenth birthday after the holiday. Louis and the boys are all in sixth form, either preparing or awaiting their A-levels, making Harry the baby of the pack. No one mentions the age difference–or Harry’s predicament with Louis–and things are nice between them all.

The five of them go around as one (even if Harry and Louis have always been a bit closer), and take up room wherever they go. They fill half the hallway at school, eat up all of Niall’s mum’s cooking before she’s even got it set on plates, drive around town as if gas money isn’t a thing. It’s been just them for so long, and Harry loves his little home-made family.  

He can go to any of them for anything, which is beyond helpful at the moment. Harry hasn’t got the faintest idea as of what to do. He’s not going to be able to find the skateboard, and he’s back in panic-mode, anxiously trying to come up with a new gift.

Liam picks up his phone on the third ring, voice soft as he offers, “Hello, mate.”

“Liam, I’m absolutely _fucked_.”

The other boy’s voice lifts up, worried. “What’s wrong, Harry? Is everything alright?”

Harry shakes his head. He’s sat on a bench in front of the mall’s Christmas tree, looking smaller than ever beside the fifty foot tall thing.

“No. No, everything is not alright,” he announces. “I knew what I was going to get Louis for Christmas, but I cannot find it, and I am fucked.”

Liam lets out a sigh of relief, followed by a small chuckle.

“Why are you laughing, Liam? This is a proper emergency. Might as well call the A&E because I am going to keel over and die from stress.”

“Babe,” Liam coos. “Remember that year that you bought Zayn that art kit and he nearly made out with you right then and there? Or when you gave Niall a subscription to the _Ale of The Month Club_ , and he literally cried from joy? You are, by far, the best gift giver that I have ever known.”

Harry huffs, looking around. The mall is packed, even though it’s getting late. He wonders if anyone else has just spent dinner-time running around, trying to find the perfect present for the love of their life.

“That’s different, Liam,” Harry says. “I love Niall and Zayn, really, but my life won’t be over if they don’t like the presents I buy them. Louis’ got to love whatever I give him, and I cannot find the one thing that he wants.”

Liam scoffs into the line. “Harry, mate. Your life won’t be over if Louis doesn’t like what you get him, either. Besides, you’re you, and he’s him, so he will love whatever you end up getting him, no matter what.”

Harry shakes his head, clenching his phone tighter. He knows it’s true that Louis has always been over-appreciative of his gifts, and can’t change his ways overnight; it doesn’t stop his heart from wrenching, wanting nothing more than to get something that Louis will love because he loves it, and not because Harry got it for him. 

“Whatever,” Harry says, standing from his seat. The shops don’t start to close for another hour, and he might as well rifle around for some other things while he’s out. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Alright. And Harry, don’t work yourself up over this. It’ll work out, babe. See you.”

When the line ends and Harry stuffs his phone into his pocket, he lets out a particularly rough groan that has pedestrians giving him odd looks. He doesn’t care though, because he’s completely failed his one and only mission.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, pacing off toward Forever 21. Gemma needs a new cardigan, and Harry might as well get it, since he has nothing better to do.

♡♡♡

The earth is spinning, stars are exploding, bees are pollinating; so much is happening for the universe, but all that Harry can think about is Louis _bloody_ Tomlinson, and his _bloody_ talent. Normally, Harry wouldn’t have any objections to his pining (because pining after Louis is a good way to pass time), but today he’s got to brainstorm harder than he ever has.

Louis’ in the room, and he’s practicing his Christmas solo for the Winter Showcase, which is the most distracting thing that he has ever done.

His voice is warm and homey, making Harry feel dizzy with how amazing Louis is. There’s a rasp when he hits certain notes, almost like his morning voice is making an appearance, and the echo’s that it sends off the walls are caramel sweet.

Harry’s pretending not to notice, his nose buried deep in some magazine that he’d lost interest in the moment Louis started to carol. It’s hard to breathe with Louis around, and Harry is using every ounce of willpower in his body to keep from staring him down.

He can’t see the older boy, but Harry knows how sinful he looks. His eyelashes are fluttering, sending shadows across his accented cheekbones; his short, slender fingers are wrapped around the telly remote, lips pressed to the tip like a fake mic; his Adam’s apple is bobbing with each lyric, highlighting just how much Louis’ into the words. It’s probably the hottest sight that Harry has ever imagined, and he’s gulping down as much air as subtle as possible, trying to keep himself grounded.

The pages under his fingers have long since crinkled, grip so tight that the edges are tearing. He’s on an ad about winter coats, though, so it’s fine. He happily tugs at the pages, keeping himself distracted until Louis’ voice dies down, room falling silent around them.

It’s cold, Harry realises.

“How was that, then?” Louis asks, out of nowhere.

Harry raises his brow, swallows a bit of spit. “Hm? Your song? Oh, that was. Yeah. Lovely, Lou. Always amazing.”

The older boy chuckles a bit, flopping down onto the bed beside Harry. The sheets are Superman themed, and Louis’ had them for as long as Harry can remember. Back when they were kids, Louis had gone through a phase where everything had to be superhero related. Even wore a red cape for three months straight before his teacher sent home a letter complaining about the smell.

Harry was whipped, even back then. He’d follow Louis around like a lost puppy, do everything that the ocean-eyed boy wanted. It’s the same now, except Harry knows just how far he’d go.

Louis’ body isn’t two feet away from his own, both of them sat with their backs to the wall and legs dangling off the side of the bed. It’s a twin mattress, meant for one growing boy, rather than two, but neither of them have an issue with the closeness. Harry savours it, in fact, imagining that he can feel Louis’ body heat radiating between them, melding into his skin.

“You excited?” Harry offers, clearing his throat. “For the showcase, I mean. Gotta be nerve-wrecking, going up for your third win in a row.”

Louis shrugs beside him, eyes glancing off at nothing in particular. “Not really. If I win, then that’s that.”

Harry smiles, nodding. He leans out, setting the wrinkled magazine back onto Louis’ dresser, making a mental note to drop it off at the trash bin before he heads back home.

“S’pose so,” Harry says, voice hushed.

Louis nods, placing his hands over his tummy and lacing his fingers together, making a drawbridge out of skin and bone over his shirt. His skin looks smooth and warm in the poorly-lit fluorescence of his bedroom’s bulbs. It’s a situation they’ve been in too many times to count; each other’s presence, surrounded by silence and memories. Harry could wallow in it forever.

They sit for a bit, breathing in, out, in again. It’s alright like this, just the two of them and the turning earth. Harry wonders if Louis likes it too, the deafening ring that comes from being so close.

“’m tired,” Harry lies, shattering the quiet. He’s not tired, hasn’t been in some days. Having slept well over nine hours last night was keeping him fully awake, but Louis has always given in to his sleepy boy, and Harry figures that he won't stop now.

Louis’ eyes find his, a small smile on his lips. “Is that so?”

Harry’s mouth is dry. “Yeah.”

“Alright, then.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks.

Louis nods, sitting up so that he can move his body across the bed, lay horizontal with his back pressed to the chilly, poster-clad walls. His joggers are low on his hips, his shirt loose. Harry pretends not to notice the spots where his skin peeks through–how his lower belly is all pudge and soft, his collarbones are defined, asking to have lips pressed to them, his hips and love-handles are poking out, all tanned–and follows Louis’ lead, laying down so that he’s got Louis’ front to his back, nose to his neck, and hands on his waist.

He’s almost bigger than Louis now, catching up and more, despite being two years younger. That won’t stop him from shrinking himself down, letting Louis wrap around him and make him feel secure. His smell envelopes Harry, sweat and fresh linen and home. Harry can’t do anything but lull back into him, eyes shutting to the feeling of Louis’ breath on his neck.

“Getting big, Curly,” Louis murmurs into Harry’s hair, hand coming up to scratch at the waves of brown. “Gonna have to be me big spoon, soon.”

Harry giggles, shaking his head. “’m not big spoon material, Louis.”

Louis breathes into him for a moment, hot air tickling the back of Harry’s neck, until finally, “I know, Hazza. Just poking fun.”

Their words die off, and Harry knows that he’s only digging himself a bigger hole. Louis’ always giving in to him, building up this false sense of security and hope. And Harry knows that he should start to wean himself away from the older boy, accept the fact that they’re only friends, but when he’s got moments like this, where the sun is barely visible through the curtains, and Louis is all warm and soft and offering it all to him, Harry thinks that he’d deal with all the heartbreak in the world for just a few more seconds of _this_.

♡♡♡

The school cafeteria is buzzing, Christmas banners hung high and garland strung around different sections of the room. They’re serving pizza today, with a side of fruit and corn, and everyone seems more on-edge than normal. It happens every year around this time, the holidays getting closer. The only thing keeping Harry in his right mind is the fact that he has to worry about finding Louis the best present.

There’s less than two weeks until the Secret Santa deadline, and Harry knows that he’s beyond screwed. All of his friends have already picked out their presents, and Harry refuses to accept anyone’s help in his search. None of them know Louis like he does, and he won’t let anyone muck up Louis’ gift because they overestimate his interest in beige braces or Robbie William’s music. 

Zayn had suggested buying him a gift card, but Harry immediately scoffed (“A gift card, Zayn? What is this, the middle ages?”) and went on his way. Liam mentioned a sale on Vans at the shoe store, but Louis didn’t need a new pair. Even Niall went out of his way in an attempt to help, clipping different ads from magazines and going on about how Louis would do good with a new game controller for Fifa nights.

Harry loves his boys to death, but their ideas were painful to hear. He’d much rather wallow in his own inability to shop and procrastinate than give in to some awful gift that means nothing. Louis is worth so much more than some bought-on-sale bottle of Givenchy Play.

The boys are already seated at their usual table when Harry shuffles up, tray in hand. His stomach is still full from breakfast, but he knows that if he doesn’t finish it either Niall or Louis will, so he settles with picking at his fruit the moment he sits.

“Morning, mate,” Liam says. He’s sat across from Harry with Zayn at his side, a book in hand as he awkwardly bites into greasy cheese.

Harry nods in his direction, glancing toward Louis. And, well.

Louis’ got a reindeer jumper on, one that his mum had bought him as a gag gift last year, and he’s swimming in the woolen fabric. His hair is feathery, sticking up in random spots; the dents of his cheeks are pulled in, harsh, angles exaggerated under the red and gold tint of decorations. There’s also a bit of pizza grease splayed across his lips, making them wet and prominent.

He’ll be the end of Harry.

When he glances up, catching sight of the younger lad, Louis’ eyes go wide with surprise, a smile following. “Morning, H. How’s it been? Haven’t seen you in, oh, twelve hours?”

Harry’s heart is beating in his chest, making his whole body vibrate with O positive. Louis’ got a grip on him like this, looking all soft and cozy that Harry can’t control a damn thought in his mind. A blush is creeping up his neck, Louis’ gaze analysing every little movement that he makes.

“’m alright,” he offers, eyesight holding on his food as he lifts his plastic fork and stabs at a peach. “A bit busy, ‘s all.”

Niall snorts beside him, and Harry has to step on his own foot to keep from kicking the blonde boy in the ankle. The menace, all loud and enthusiastic, smirks at Harry, reaching over to snatch up his pizza.

Harry’s eyebrows scrunch up, corners of his mouth dragging down in a frown. He chases after Niall with his hand but comes up short when the boy shoves his arm out of reach. “Mine, now.”

“That’s bloody rude,” Louis comments. And, before either Niall or Harry can catch on, Louis reaching over and snatching the slice from Niall’s hand. Niall immediately shouts in protest, but Louis ignores him, hopping up to round over to where Harry is sitting.

“m’lady,” he announces loud, as he drops it onto Harry’s plate.

Harry smiles again, skin buzzing when Louis pats his shoulder. “Thanks.”

Louis nods, finding his spot again.

“Hate you,” Niall mutters, going back to his own food. “You know, you ought to be a little nicer to me, H. I could easily blackmail your curly arse, what with me knowing all your secrets.”

Harry goes rigid, and he decides that he hates Niall. Why he would pull that, all over some cheap, soggy food, Harry hasn’t the faintest. Before he can ponder it, Louis’ already piping up, eyebrow raised in piqued interest. Zayn and Liam seem to zone in a bit too, coming out of their personal bubble.

“Oh, really? What secrets would those be?” Louis asks. “Anything interesting?”

Harry’s giving Niall a death glare, and he knows that it’s making more of a scene than before, but he’s going to _end_ Niall if he decides that today is the day he wants to ruin Harry’s life.

Niall, being the absolute wanker that he is, cocks his head to the side, smacking his lips together. “Well, _Louis_. Little Harry here has _quite_ the bundle of mysteries about himself.”

The world is crumbling around Harry, his heart stopping. Niall’s going to ruin everything before Harry’s even had a chance to work all the kinks out. He’s going to block Niall on all social media, make a pact with himself to report each and every post that Niall has ever made on Twitter and spread nasty lies about him on Facebook. The _prick_. 

“Niall,” Liam warns, book lowering. The blonde boy doesn’t relent, though.

“Feel like sharing?”

Niall nods, giving Harry a final glance before turning his attention to Louis. “Obviously. The things I know about this boy… It’s exhilarating, really. Like, did you know that he’s got a foot fetish? Absolutely loves a ladies’ toes!” Lies. “And, he wears women’s underwear. Did you know that, Lou? Harry’s probably wearing some panties as we speak!” More lies. “Ooh, and he also has the biggest crush on Mr. Cowell!” The biggest lie of them all.

When Harry gets the idea that Niall is just poking fun at him, no force to his hits, he relaxes a little, a relieved sigh falling from his lips. Louis seems a bit disappointed, eyes rolling when Niall starts to jabber on about Harry and an obsession with My Little Pony, but things are fine.

Lunch goes on, Niall rattling on empty threats and jokes. Harry only feels the urge to punch him a few times, and Louis makes his heart rattle against his ribs every time that his eyes find Harry’s, a soft hue of something hazy.

♡♡♡

Weekends at the Tomlinson house are an often occurrence for Harry. He’ll show up, uninvited, and take over the place, raiding the cabinets or fussing up the freshly-washed sheets. Jay’s never minded though, and Louis’ sisters think of Harry as an older sibling, same as Louis. So when he jostles through the front door, lacking an invitation, Lottie only glances at him for a second before returning her attention to the nail varnish she’s applying.

The house is mostly silent, only the hum of heaters and the crackling of the ice-maker rattling up some sound. It’s calm here, and Harry’s always felt a bit too much at home when he’s around.

He’s got every inch of the place memorised, having spent most of his childhood running up and down the hallway, tearing apart each room, and canvassing each spot of air with memories. It’s like a living museum of his and Louis’ life, happiness and jokes and self-discovery wrapped in a cocoon of white walls and uneven floorboards.

Louis’ room isn’t but a short way from the door, and Harry could walk the distance with his eyes shut, no problem. He almost does, eyelids hanging low as he takes in the familiar scent of cinnamon and pine. The door is unlocked when he finds it, fingers easily turning the doorknob until he’s able to push it open.

His boy is on his bed, back facing Harry so that he can’t see what his hands are on. Louis jumps at the exact moment Harry goes to speak, letting him know that he’s just peeping in. It’s quick and overwhelming, the speed at which Louis has his hands on Harry, fingers pressed into his shoulders as he rushes him backwards.

“Lou–what are you–wait, hold on!”

The door slams in his face, leading him standing, confused, unsure of what’s just happened. For a moment Harry just watches the door, almost waiting for it to open by him purely imagining it. When it doesn’t, though, he reaches out to try again. Except, it’s locked, now.

“Louis?” Harry tries.

There’s a groan, and then, “Go away, Harold.”

He continues to stand, beyond confused. He’s just been kicked out of his own second bedroom, for reasons that he can’t imagine, and he doesn’t know why Louis’ doing this.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Louis says, voice lacking any emotion, “Head home. I’m busy.”

Harry doesn’t follow Louis’ orders. Instead, he stays put, letting his thoughts run around his mind, free. Turns out, that’s a horrible idea, because when Harry’s brain comes to a certain conclusion, he can feel the nerves in his body prickling, heat starting to gather in his cheeks and his ears.

Lowly, with a cautious tone, Harry almost doesn’t speak. When he does, it’s barely audible, just into the crease where the door meets the hinges. “You’re not, um, wanking, are you?”

This time, Lottie joins in with her brother, shouting about Harry needing to bugger off. Louis’ cackling, though, and Harry feels a wave of relief, because if Louis had been doing anything particularly naughty, Harry isn’t sure that he’d be able to walk out of the house upright.

“I’ll call you, yeah?” Louis gives in. It’s followed by a rustling, and Harry figures that there’s no point in lingering when he’s not getting in.

He breathes out an, “alright, love you,” before trudging his way back out to the living room. Lottie’s still on the couch, fanning her nails in the air with a concentrated expression as she stares down her phone. She’s a right beautiful girl, and Harry’s quite astonished at how she’s coming up, the same looks as her brother’s.

He stops for a moment, tossing a wave in her direction, and she only looks up for a moment. “Hey, Harry.”

“Hey. See you, I guess.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, because he knows that she won’t give one. Harry makes sure to shut the front door behind him carefully, because the pivots have been acting up lately. And as he’s trotting down the front steps, feet thumping against the chilled wood, the metal starts to squeak behind him. When he turns around, Lottie’s following, pulling her shoes on as she hops outside.

“Wait up!” she says. “Wanna go for a walk, yeah?”

Harry doesn’t think on it, just nods and holds his body still as she finishes dressing. The air’s cold, winter air clouding everything, making it almost hard to breathe. He doesn’t mind it, though–he’s always had a knack for the cold.

Lottie’s pulled on her coat at some point before coming out, dressed in layers of fabric. It’s more than Harry, but he’s sure that she’ll be ready to go in soon. He’ll keep her company until then.

When she follows his lead, coming down the stairs, they fall into step, their bodies coming in close to keep the heat. He’s a good foot taller than her, has always been a few steps ahead.

“How’s it going, kid?” Harry asks, hands buried deep in his pockets.

She rolls her eyes at the name (she’s always hated when Harry or Louis or anyone made sure to emphasize just how young she is), but keeps her pace. “Nothing much. I’ve got a boyfriend, I think.”

Harry’s ears perk up, feet connecting with the sidewalk pavement. “A boyfriend? Really? You’re a bit young for a proper boyfriend, don’t you think?”

“ _Harry_ ,” Lottie scolds. “I’m almost thirteen. Of course I’m old enough for a proper boyfriend.”

Harry holds in a giggle, because she’s got her nose scrunched up in the same way that Louis does, and it looks even more adorable on her than her brother, surprisingly. He raises his hands in surrender, smile reaching his eyes. “Alright, alright. My bad.”

She nods, as if saying _that’s right_.

They walk in silence for a moment, and Harry tried not to think about her boyfriend and how it would only be fair for him to have a talk with the boy. He could let him know that Lottie’s not like most girls, and that he has plenty of friends on the footie team. ( _The boy’s only a kid_ , Harry has to remind himself.)

Eventually, once the cold is seeping through his jacket, making his fingertips tremble, Lottie clears her throat, catching Harry’s attention.

“So,” she says, voice calm. “What’s up with you and Louis?”

It takes Harry a moment to catch her words, not fully processing them at first. He wonders what she means, because they’re nothing up with him and Louis.

“What do you mean?” He questions. “Back there? I dunno, he just wouldn’t let me in.”

Lottie shakes her head, and Harry can see her teeth chattering some. “No, dummy. He was wrapping presents, that’s why he wouldn’t let you in.” Harry’s mind falls at ease, because that makes sense. “What I mean, is why’re you both acting so strange?”

Harry raises his brow, looking down at her. As far as he knows, they haven’t acted odd at all. He’s been pining relentlessly for years; it’d be odd for her to notice just now, so he figures that she’s not on about that. And as for Louis, Harry hasn’t seen him acting odd. They’ve been the same.

“What do you mean?”

Lottie rolls her eyes. “C’mon, Harry. ‘m not _that_ young. You can fill me in on the gritty details.”

“Lottie,” Harry coos. “I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The girl sighs, shaking her head. “You’re hopeless, you know.”

Harry would act offended, give a fake pout to support his act–he’s completely confused, though, and decides to play it straight. She’s not making much sense.

“What’re you on about, really?” Harry asks.

A gush of cool wind hits them, and Harry nearly topples over with his cold he is. Lottie’s got her arms wrapped around her body, shivering like she’s never been so cold. Harry places his hand on her shoulder, turning them back toward the house.

“You know, Harry.” She sniffles. “Louis’ been extra on edge around you. I don’t know how to explain it, really, but he’s been a bit strange. More hesitant.”

“I haven’t noticed,” Harry says. “Been perfectly normal to me.”

“Well. When you’re not around he’s a bit off. Doesn’t go on and on about you for hours, anymore. It’s like he’s holding back.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she confirms. “Maybe it’s nothing. Just. I don’t like seeing him off. It’s weird. Maybe it’s just the holiday. I thought I’d check and see if you were keeping any secrets.”

Harry looks back in front of them, feet going at a steady pace. He hasn’t got a clue what she’s on about, but he doesn’t question it. If anything, he figures that she’s just letting her imagination run wild.

♡♡♡

Gemma is sat on the foot of Harry’s bed, an economics textbook propped up in her lap as she jots down notes in a folder. She’s got a focused look on her face, as if learning about Marxism and inflation are something of interest, and Harry can’t help but feel sorry for his sister.

She’s older than him by a few years, already got a flat up by her university, but is home for Christmas. There had been a no stressing rule set out from the moment her feet touched the property line, but with Gemma being herself, it only lasted a few hours. She was hiding up in her old bedroom, mum completely clueless to the fact that her daughter was buried deep in classwork and assignments.

She’s still got that mindset of working hard and long, but Harry’s fine with it. Gemma is with him now, and she’s listening to him go on about his current issues (even if it’s only with half-interest), and that means something to him.

The blanket around Harry’s waist as he lays, looking across at his sister, is keeping him toasty warm. Vanilla scent fills the room, a candle burning on his bedside table.

“Gem,” Harry says, voice sleepy. “Why’s everything got to be so complicated?”

Before paying mind to Harry, she finishes up the line she’s on, jotting down a few words to form up a sentence. The moment she’s got her fill down, she gives in, raising her brows at her sibling. 

“What?”

Harry sighs, raising his hands to scrub up and down his face. “Everything’s so awful. I think I might be dying.”

Gemma scoffs, reaching out to slap at Harry’s foot. “Don’t say that, H.”

“I’m not lying. I’ve never been this stressed out before. My little body doesn’t know how to handle so much.”

“What’s going on,” she asks, shutting her book. She lets all of her attention go to Harry, and it’s the first time in some time that she’s done something other than nod in his direction with unspoken acknowledgements.

Harry looks at her, lips falling open. “I’ve got a dilemma, Gem.”

In anticipation, she narrows her eyes.

“You see, at school we’re doing this Secret Santa thing, and I ended up pulling Louis’ name. Which–that’s great, I love Louis–but I have no idea what to get him. Everything that I think up is shit, and I only have a week left.”

Gemma keeps her face still on him, previous anticipation still waning, like she’s waiting for the punchline. For a moment she just waits, until finally, “Is that it?”

Harry lets out a hurt noise. As he says, “Thanks, Gem,” a frown falls on his face.

His sister rolls her eyes, slapping her hands on her thighs. “That’s not what I mean, Harry. It’s just, like. That doesn’t seem like a big dilemma. You’re always buying the cutest things for people. Getting Louis something hardly seems like an issue for you, what with the two of you being the same person.”

“It’s not that easy,” Harry replies. “Louis doesn’t deserve just any present. It has to be perfect, because he’s perfect, and perfect deserves perfect.”

Gemma laughs, shaking her head. “Lots of perfect, hm?”

Harry nods. “The most.”

“Well,” Gemma says, a comforting lull to her voice, “don’t let this ruin you, alright? Louis means to you what you mean to him. He’s always adored you the most, H, and will love whatever you get him. Hell, if you were to just hand him a photo of the two of you together, put a bow on it and call it that, he’d be beyond satisfied.”

Harry thinks about that. Louis wouldn’t be satisfied with a photo of Harry and him. He’d snort and roll his eyes, grabby hands waiting for the real present. So a picture of them, no; a collage of pictures, with videos and memories put in between would make a great present, though.

Louis’ a sentimental bastard, always tearing up at home movies whenever they pull them out.  He has tons of photos of them and his family around his room, taped up in his locker, and in his wallet. He’s a family man (or will be, once he’s old enough to pop out a few kids), and there’s no other way to get to his heart than through some old fashioned domestic love.

“Bloody hell, Gemma!”

He ignores his sister’s protests (“Don’t swear like that, idiot!”) and practically rips his sheets when he jumps from the bed, running up to the attic.

He makes a mental note to thank his sister later, because she’s a saint. Now though, he’s got a present to make.

♡♡♡

The Secret Santa due date is here, and everyone is sat in their seats, Mr. Grimshaw at the front of the room with an expectant look on his face. As soon as the meeting fully begins, it’ll be a whirlwind of wrapping paper and thanks, and Harry wants to get this started right away.

He’d spent four entire days on Louis’ present, downloading old home movies of the two of them onto his computer, only to stick them all together with some cheesy, cliché song about family and love and friends playing overtop. For the time limit he was given and the amount of material he had to work with, Harry thinks that he’s done a decent job and wants nothing more than to see Louis happy with it.

Which, yeah. He hasn’t spoken to Louis proper, in a good bit of time. He’s been too focused on what to buy him to actually talk to him. Harry misses him, too. If there’s ever been one thing in life that Harry is glad to be over with, it’s probably this.

Not that he doesn’t love buying things for Louis and making him happy. It’s just, this has been such a stressful experience, and he’s pretty sure that buying gifts, without cause, is a much better hobby.

Louis’ sauntering in, empty-handed, with a low smile on his face. His eyes are lit up, like he’s just won the lottery, and it’s a sight for sore eyes.

“Morning, lads,” he says, dropping down into his spot beside Harry. Liam turns around to give a quick hello, and looks absolutely radiant at the sight of Louis.

With a warm smile, Liam gives a, “Morning, babe,” and a quick wink.

Harry’s a bit confused by it, but doesn’t comment. Instead, he turns fully to Louis, ready to mentally record his reaction to every part of the morning. The one thing that’ll make all of his pain and suffering worth it is Louis reaction, and he’s going to savor every second of it.

“Ready to see your present, then?” Harry asks, voice a little too high.

Louis nods at him, expression not faltering. “Definitely. I’ve been trying to predict who’s got me, and I’m guessing Jesy. Girl’s been eyeing me funny all month.”

Harry laughs, because Louis’ going to love his gift. “Maybe she’s just in love with you.”

“Oh, aren’t you clever. Of course she’s in love with me. Everyone’s in love with me.”

Harry nods, not caring that he’s got Fond Sap written on his forehead. He does love Louis, and he’s so glad that they can go back to normal now.

The next few minutes are filled with playful banter. Everyone hushes when Mr. Grimshaw clears his throat, though, ready to begin the meeting.

Presents are stacked on his desk, all from anonymous givers. Harry can see where he’s got Louis’ sat, right toward the front. It’s small, just a disc in a case, wrapped with a Christmas tree print; it’s simple, with a bow, and Harry knows that Louis will like the subtlety of it–keeping the extravagant part between the two of them.

Mr. Grimshaw calls everyone up one by one, names written on the tops of presents. Out of their friends, Liam goes first. Niall and Jade go next, followed by Zayn and Eleanor. When Louis’ name is called, Harry is tapping his foot in anticipation, his bottom lip held between his teeth.

Louis runs to the front of the room, yanking his present from Mr. Grimshaw’s hand. The older man snorts, and Louis has the wrapping paper off before he even sits down.

“What’s this?” Louis asks, holding the disc container at eye level. He squints at the plastic, all eyes on him as he pops open the case.

Harry had taken to drawing little smiley faces and hearts on the disc, with a little, “To Lou,” on the top. He knows that the moment Louis sees it, he’ll know Harry gave him the gift, but he doesn’t mind. Louis would find out eventually.

His friend looks to him after taking a few moments to assess the disc, coming up with a smile on his face. “What’s it about?”

Harry smirks. “Guess you’ll have to watch it and find out, wont’cha?”

“Rude,” Louis says, no punch to it. He sits back in his seat, closing the case. “I’ll watch it in Tech, yeah? Thank you, I suppose.”

Harry shakes his head, his belly tightening at the thought of Louis watching it. The video is all their memories, their lives entwined, all put out in front of him like some wordless love declaration.

“We should watch it together. It’ll be better that way, okay? Wait until after school, then come to my house with it.”

Louis gives him a raised brow but nods, tucking his gift into his backpack.

The air thins around them, and Harry’s so aware of the fact that it’s a spiral from here. When Louis sees the video, watches all the care and effort put into making is good for him, it’ll be a make or break for them. It means so much, and Harry’s shivering with how much he wants to get on with it.

When his own name is called, Mr. Grimshaw giving him an expectant look, Harry realizes that he’s spent no time at all thinking about what he’d get in the exchange. He doesn’t have a clue what someone would have gotten him, doesn’t have time to think about it as he makes his way to the front of the room to take a small envelope from the teacher’s hand.

He waits until he’s sat down to open it, glancing at his mates before he slides his thumbnail under the sticky print. It opens, and Harry pulls out a sheet of paper. It’s curious, and he’s about to raise his hand in question when he flips it over and finds words, Ariel print spread over the backside.

“ _come to the winter showcase 4 ur prez !!!! xxx_ ”

Harry squints at it, flipping the page over again to see if he’s missed something. When he comes to the conclusion that he hasn’t, he looks over at Louis, confused.

“What’s this supposed to mean?” He asks.

Louis makes grabby hands for it, and Harry hands it over with ease. His friend makes to scan over it multiple times, handing it back with a shrug, and, “probably one of your many secret admirers.”

Harry snorts, shoving the note back into the envelope. He’ll worry about his present later; he was already planning on attending the Showcase, what with Louis being in it. For now, he’s got bigger and better things to focus on: Louis.

♡♡♡

As the day trudges on, Harry can’t help the antsy feeling that starts to fill his belly, making him more on edge than usual. Second period took well over its usual hour, Harry assumes, because time feels like it’s moving in slow motion. He’s going to be sick if things don’t pick up the pace.

Fourth period is rolling around, and when he drops his weight into his assigned seat, Eleanor shuffles to his side, a big smile on his face.

“Morning, love.” She’s shining, and Harry can feel her presence lighting up the room. “You look a bit out of it, today. Everything alright?”

Harry’s slouched over, but nods up at her, unconvincingly. “A bit tired, ‘s all.”

She sits down beside him, crossing her legs. “It’s almost the break. Only a few more days, yeah? We’ve got the Winter Showcase, then we’re home free.”

“Thankfully.”

He thinks for a moment, before piping up, “Oh! Secret Santa. How did you like your lipstick, then? Is it as gorgeous as it was made out to be?”

Eleanor raises her brow in a confused look, lips puckering. “Sorry?”

“Your present. Do you like the lipstick?”

“’m not sure what you’re on about. I got a pair of Doc Martens for the exchange.”

Harry’s a bit lost, now, because Louis had mentioned that he was, for sure, buying Eleanor lipstick. Harry wonders, did Louis change his gift idea last minute?”

“Oh, well. Do you like them?”

Eleanor nods. “Yeah. Jade said that she picked them out special for me. Went all across town to find them.”

“What?” Harry asks, just as lost as before. “What do you mean _Jade_? I thought _Louis_ was your Secret Santa.”

Eleanor shakes her head slowly, deliberating. “Nah, babe. Jade told me that she pulled me, way back at the start. Knew that I hated surprises and wanted to make sure I had a fun time.”

Harry pauses for a bit, brows knit in confusion. Louis lied to him, and it was a well thought out lie (which isn’t new for Louis, but). Harry’s not sure why Louis would do that, what would cause him to. It’s a bloody present exchange, for Christ’s sake.

Harry lets himself think over it, run through possible reasoning in his mind. When he comes up empty, he just nods to Eleanor’s words as she talks, making a mental note to press Louis about it later.

♡♡♡

After school, before Harry has even set his book bag down, Louis comes charging in. Harry can hear him before he sees him, his raspy, high voice tossing Gemma a, “Hello, babe,” followed by heavy footsteps down the hallway, and swinging Harry’s bedroom door open. He looks out of breath, as if he ran a mile, and Harry can’t help but smile at the redness of his cheeks.

“Hurry, much?” Harry teases, dropping his things on the foot of his bed.

Louis huffs and rolls his eyes, immediately pulling Harry’s laptop from the dresser and onto his bed. He turns it on and types the password in with ease, like it’s a natural occurrence, him breaking in and entering it, going through Harry’s personal belongings (it is).

Harry laughs as he flops down beside Louis, pulls off his shoes and socks before tossing them across the room. When he looks to Louis, he’s already got the disc drive open and Harry’s present pulled out.

Harry can feel his heart beating in his throat when Louis goes to hit play, a concentrated look on his face. It’s the moment that Harry has been anticipating for too long, and now that it’s here, Harry wants to memorise every little part of it. His nerves are shaking under his skin, and it’s making his palms go sweaty with how nervous he is.

The video starts with a clip of the two of them, no older than seven and nine, sat in Harry’s backyard. They’re in a blow up pool that’s three sizes too big for their growing bodies, but they look absolutely adorable, splashing each other with water, their siblings running in the background.

Clips from their past unfold in front of their eyes, from Louis’ first school dance (Harry had taken twelve-hundred photos with him, pushing Louis’ date off to the side), to learning how to ride bicycles together (they both ended up with scraped knees), and midnight sleepovers (their mum’s had snuck in, camera in hand, to catch them cuddling as a horror movie left them trembling).

Photos flash, and Harry’s got his eyes glued too tightly on Louis that he’s surprised the other boy hasn’t waved him off. Instead, Louis’ got this soft look on his face, all fond and sweet and surprised. His mouth is lax, lips parted as he smiles at the clips.

With each flutter of Louis’ eyelashes, Harry’s stomach does flips, all excited and in love. His boy is so beautiful, and he’s giving the best reaction that Harry could have hoped for, and all of the panic and stress is suddenly _so_ worth it.

It goes on, Louis’ eyes glued to the screen, Harry’s eyes glued to Louis, for the whole video. When the ending screen comes along, a little design reading, “ _Love you, Lou. Hope you liked it_ ,” Harry’s throat clenches and his mouth goes dry, waiting for Louis’ response.

Louis looks at him not long after, eyes only lingering on the screen for a moment once it’s end, and his eyes go soft. He’s all warmth and home, and he takes a whole two seconds before leaning out and wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders. His face buried in the boy’s neck, and Harry can’t do anything, and doesn’t want to do anything other than giving into him, pressing his body back against his boy’s.

“That was perfect, Hazza,” Louis mumbles, words mixing with the skin of Harry’s neck. His breath is hot, and Harry’s nerves prickles at it.

He sighs, scooting closer so that he can grip on tighter, fisting his hands in Louis’ sweater. “Glad you like it.”

“ _Love_ it,” Louis corrects.

They let go not long after, and Harry can feel the ghost of Louis’ body on his own when they’re a foot apart. His skin is vibrating with how much he loves him, and his eyes are stuck on the boy across from him.

“How long did you spend on it, then?”

Harry smirks. “A whole two minutes.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Thanks, _mate_.”

“No,” Harry laughs. “I did try to get you that skateboard you wanted, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I even checked some American forums or summat. Nothing. So I decided I’d go original and classy. Nothing like some good ole’ memories, yeah?”

Louis’ smiling at him, nodding along. “It really means a lot. It was perfect. Is perfect. I’m gonna re-watch it every night.”

Harry rolls his eyes, leaning in some. His fingers press into Louis’ knee, and it’s so light that he wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t feel it.

“’m glad you like it. That was all I wanted.”

Louis goes back in for another hug, arms bracketing Harry’s so that they’re trapped against his sides. Still, he slides his forearms up to press his hands into Louis’ back.

They stay like that for some time, and if Harry forgets to ask about Eleanor’s Secret Santa and why Louis lied, he doesn’t have the ability to try or care.

♡♡♡

The Winter Showcase is the last Friday of school before they’re let out for Christmas break. It’s in the afternoon, well after everyone has gone home, and Harry gets there early to save his boys’ some spots to sit and help Louis prep for his song. Everything is set up when he gets there, all nice and festive and warm.

He’s much too early for it to be deemed socially acceptable, but he doesn’t mind. Harry can get the front row seats, and he’s got a chance to go around and wish everyone performing good luck. By the time he’s passed Aiden and Cher, he’s meeting Louis backstage with a grin on his face and arms opened wide.

“Bring it in, _Tommo the Talented_.”

Louis rolls his eyes at Harry, but still gives in as he presses up close to him. It’s a quick hug, and Harry makes sure to hang on to the feeling of Louis on his skin.

“You ready?” Harry asks.

Louis shrugs, fiddling his hands. “’m always ready, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay to be nervous.”

“Thanks,” Louis mocks. “Anyhow, haven’t you got a present to receive? Why don’t you go run about and search for it?”

Harry smiles. “I don’t know where to look, idiot. My Secret Santa only told me to come. I plan on sitting back and letting the gift come to me.”

“How poetic,” Louis jokes, before looking around. “Thanks for coming, by the way. Like, I know it was a given, you coming, but just. Thanks!”

Harry smiles, and of course he would come. He only nods, doesn’t comment.

“And, seriously,” Louis adds, “sod off, will you? I need to practice and I don’t want you to have any spoilers.”

“I’ve already seen you sing it a hundred times,” Harry reminds.

“Shut up. Just, go on, will you?”

Harry laughs. “Fine, fine. You’ll do great. Give me a hug before I go, I suppose.”

Louis obeys, pressing a quick kiss to Harry’s temple, before shoving him backwards. Harry follows his orders, making his way back out to the front. If the spot on his head where Louis’ lips touched him tingles for a little bit too long, he isn’t complaining.

♡♡♡

“The show’s gonna start any minute, y’know. If you need to wee, now’s the time.”

Harry pretends not to hear Niall, because he’s not going to leave and risk missing the start of the show. Niall’s just being a twat, acting as though Harry has done nothing but sit and wait (which isn’t true, not completely). So, Harry is set on ignoring his friend, like usual.

Liam is on his other side, and Harry’s glad that at least one person that he can stand is in sight. When it’s Louis’ turn to perform, Liam won’t start making comments and whispering to him. Niall, on the other hand, is terrible, and would spend the entire performance cracking jokes and wolf-whistling if he could.

Thing is, Niall can’t, because he knows that Harry would put an end to him. Literally.

“Show’s going to start soon. You excited?” Liam asks.

Harry nods, eyeing the red velvet curtains that drape in front of the stage. It’s not that far off, and Harry can see Louis behind them, now all dressed up and ready to take over the stage. He’s got such a presence, and Harry couldn’t be more happy that he’s got the honour of knowing him

“Yeah,” Harry says. “Louis’ going to do so great.”

Liam squints. “I meant about your Secret Santa, babe.”

“Oh. Well, I guess. Yeah, that too.” He’s excited, sure. Just not as excited about it as he is about seeing Louis perform, do what he was born to do.

Liam laughs a bit, rolling his eyes because everyone can see just how stuck on Louis Harry really is, and makes to text on his phone until the show begins.

When the show finally begins, auditorium going quiet as the drama director hushes them through the mic, Harry immediately sits up in his seat, blood pumping under his skin. The room is warm.

“Thank you all for coming out tonight! These kids have worked very hard on this evening’s performances, and we are so excited for you all to finally see it. There will be a few surprises in tonight’s set list, so please, be prepared! From everyone here in the drama department, we hope you enjoy.”

Everyone claps, Harry doing the same, and the first student comes on stage.

Singing and dancing and a few monologues occur, and Harry’s interested, but not as much as he’d be if Louis were up. He’s happy to cheer for his peers, make sure they know what a great job they’ve done, but he’s here for one thing only, really. Louis.

It’s not until the end of the show that Louis comes up, though, and Harry’s completely forgotten about his Secret Santa. His eyes are focused on his boy, dressed up all fancy and soft. Harry’s mouth goes dry at it, and he’s so bloody in love that he can’t think about anything other than the way Louis’ completely taking over the stage with his presence.

“Hello, folks,” he announces, mic pressed up against his lips. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the show so far.”

Cheers come from all around, Niall howling with a smirk. Louis winks at him, only for his eyes to fall on Harry, smile coming up.

“Now,” Louis begins. “Not many of you know this, but our school’s Student Council Club has an annual Secret Santa gift exchange…”

It takes him a moment, but when Harry catches on, realises that this is why he was wanted here, why Louis had lied about Eleanor and wanted to keep him away from the song prep, his jaw falls slack and his throat closes. Louis’ his Secret Santa, and he’s completely tricked Harry into thinking otherwise, the clever bastard.

His eyes light up, and he can’t help but shake his head at Louis, over the moon with excitement. Louis can tell that Harry has caught on, and he points at him, other hand still on the mic.

“And, well, I happened to pull my boy Harry, here.”

Liam giggles beside him and Niall is in a similar position. The boys knew, too, and Harry was clueless.

“Turns out, he got me as well, and we were both required to give each other gifts. He’s a bit of a romantic sap, is the thing, and for my present, he made me a very personal, lovely gift–that will stay undisclosed to the public due to personal, private reasons. My gift to him however, is occurring at the moment.”

Harry rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. The audience is cooing, and Harry’s never felt his skin prickling with this much heat before. The heat rises up to his cheeks and across his neck, and everyone is watching him as Louis drops down from the stage, swaying up to Harry with his natural, cocky aura on display.

Harry’s confused as Louis pulls him up, and he would rather break both his legs than go up on stage as a display for everyone to see; but it’s Louis moving him, and he’s always giving in to Louis.

His legs are cooperating without him controlling them, and Louis’ hand is in his as he pulls him up onto the stage. The lights are hot, and that, combined with the feeling of so many people watching him and Louis’ hand holding his even once they’ve stopped moving, Harry feels like he’s burning up.

“What’re you doing, Lou?” Harry asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Louis giggles, and Harry tried to focus on that, rather than the million other things going on.

“Well, Hazza, I’m giving you your present. Now, as you know, we’ve been best mates for far too many years to count. Also, you’re the only person who knows where I keep my secret sweets stash at–and you suffered through my Tom Cruise fanboy phase without complaint. Oh, and you deal with my messiness, which I give you credit for, because not even mum can handle that half of the time.”

Louis’ rambling, so Harry raises his brows at him, offers, “The point, Louis.”

“Ah, yes. The point. Sorry, got a bit distracted.”

The crowd laughs, and Harry can see Liam, Niall, and Zayn all watching with the biggest smiles they’ve ever had, phone’s out as the record their friends on stage. _Harry wonders, where in God’s name is this going?_

Before he can think further, Louis is clearing his throat, hand tightening on Harry’s.

“Harry, dearest. While you mean the world to me, you are a terrible actor with a terrible poker face. And, I’d love to let you know, in front of the people who know us best–and Mr. Cowell–that you are, by far, the most perfect person that I’ve had the pleasure of knowing.”

Harry’s heart is beating in his chest, faster and harder than he remembers, and while he isn’t sure where this is going, he’s got a _hope_ in the back of his mind.

“Thank you?”

“Well, Harold,” Louis says, eyes not having moved from his face once. “By calling you the most perfect person, I am also calling you my most favorite person, who I happen to have mutual feelings for. If you catch what I’m saying, boy.”

Harry’s stomach drops, and he’s got so many things to process all at one time. First, how on earth did Louis know that Harry loved him? (Well, that’s a bit of a stupid question. He already answered that, and while Harry would love to be hurt by being called a terrible actor, he’s not going to do a thing about it.) Second, what the bloody hell does Louis mean, his feelings are mutual? Third, what is going on, honestly?

The only thing that Harry can muster up to say, having stayed silent for too long, with Louis’ hand still pressed against his own, is “What?”

Louis laughs, and Harry can hear people awwing from the audience, but the blood rushing against his eardrums blocks most of it out. Louis’ up close, though, and Harry is hyperaware of every little thing that he does.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, before he steps up closer, bringing them less than a foot apart. The mic lowers from his mouth a bit, and it’s just the two of them now.

“I said, the feeling is mutual, loser.”

“Mutual, as in…”

“As in,” Louis butts, “I know that you’re in love with me, and that I feel the same.”

It knocks the breath out of Harry, and his head has gone dizzy with how much Louis is giving him, how much he’s stirring the butterflies in his tummy. Everything that isn’t the two of them has vanished, and Harry can’t remember where they’re at, really.

Louis’ just said that he’s in love with Harry, and it’s so bloody surreal because this is _Louis_. The same Louis who used to give him wedgies and tell him ghost stories to spook him before bedtime; the same Louis who knows about the time he wet the bed when he was fourteen and refuses to let him live it down; the same Louis who’s known him for longer than he can remember, and who’s had hold of his heart for twice as long.

When he catches his breath, head stirring and nerves gone cold, Louis’ just watching him, patient and with a gentle smile on his lips and eyes crinkled.

“Why… Like… Like, you _love_ me love me… If you’re kidding with me…”

Louis rolls his eyes, setting the mic down beside them. He presses his hands into Harry’s shoulders, and he leans in close.

“Harry Edward Styles. My best mate. The only person I’ve ever trusted to hold on to my Pokémon collection.” He comes in closer, until Harry can feel his breath tickling at his nose. “I am just as in love with you as you are with me.”

Harry’s in shock. Louis bloody Tomlinson, the end of him.

“Now,” Louis says. “Are you going to sit here like a prat, or are you going to let me kiss you like I’ve been waiting to for, oh, ten years?”

Harry’s tongue makes to wet his lips subconsciously, and he’s nodding before he can think about it. His body is on autopilot, and when Louis leans in, closer than he’s ever been, Harry’s body moves in step, like they’re a puzzle fitting the last two pieces together.

Their lips come together, and Harry’s never felt like this before.

It’s soft and it’s warm; it’s minty and it’s sweet; it’s everything that he could have imagined and more. Louis’ got a hand pressed to the back of his neck as their lips massage at one another, and Harry’s heart hasn’t stopped pounding in what seems like years.

They pull apart after a few seconds, and everyone is chanting. Harry can faintly hear Niall hollering, but doesn’t pay attention. Louis’ still so close, and his mouth is wet with Harry’s spit, and it’s probably the best moment of his young life.

“Waited long enough,” he breathes out, voice barely there.

Louis nods, fingers playing with the hair at the base of Harry’s scalp. It’s overwhelming, how much he’s drowning in Louis.

“’m sorry,” Louis gives.

“It’s fine,” Harry says.

Harry had planned for Louis to have the best present ever, had spent so much time trying to find something to make it special for him. Thing is, now _Harry_ has the best present ever, and this is the best Christmas to ever happen.

His best mates are here, Louis is his, and Harry can’t think of anything thing that he could want more.

**Author's Note:**

> the prompt: "High School AU - Secret Santa harry panicking because he gets Louis and loves him (Louis doesn't know) and wants to get really good gift. Turns out Louis got Harry as well but is quite chill since he knows what his gift will be (his gift is a cheesy/romantic way of telling harry his feelings)"
> 
> (title from this christmas by chris brown.)
> 
> you can find me on my [tumblr](http://rbbsbb.tumblr.com/post/136297081721/my-world-is-filled-with-cheer-and-you-11), and please leave kudos and feedback!


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